


Grounded

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Blade, Angel Tablet, Angels, Angst, Blood, Broken, Bus, Choice, Comfort, Gabriel - Freeform, Gen, Heaven, Hey Jude, Loneliness, M/M, Pain, Post "Taxi Driver", Sacrifice, Samandriel - Freeform, Sick Sam Winchester, Wings, balthazar - Freeform, benny - Freeform, destiel foreshadowing, kevin tran - Freeform, wingless!Cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 06:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Castiel sets out to hide the final piece of the angel tablet, he's captured by Naomi and violently forced into a Catch 22 situation, with which he turns to Dean for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grounded

Castiel trudges forward. The road had ended dozens of miles behind, along with the buses, leaving him with nothing but Jimmy’s feet as transport to his newest destination. The scorching heat bleeds through the dry atmosphere, but it isn't until his vessel begins to drip with sweat, that Castiel takes notice of the weather. He glances at the Enochian rune drawn on the back of his hand and frowns at the smudged ink. Dropping his duffel to the cracked earth, Castiel kneels and opens the bag, removing a permanent marker.

 _“Not as permanent as a carved rib”_ he quips, wishing someone was there to laugh, or at least listen. How long had it been since the crypt? Judging by the dirtied state of the trench coat and his beard, at least a month had passed. And how many miles? Traveling so slowly by bus, by foot, by train, by mule (a story entirely of its own), but never (much to Castiel's disliking) by wings. The tablet seems powerful enough to cloak his location, but use of his wings would still reveal an angelic presence as clear as a beacon to Heaven, and Cas is in no hurry to return after all that's happened. He retraces the Enochian symbol with his marker - twice for good measure - further concealing himself from his brethren. With two of the three pieces of the tablet hidden on the other side of the country and only a third left in his possession, Cas can’t be sure if it’s still strong enough to hide him, and doesn't dare hesitate in taking further precaution.

Onwards, once more. He can see it now, the canyon, and he can’t help but smile. This is it. Once the final piece of the tablet is hidden, he can go home. To his family. When Dean, broken and bloodied by Castiel’s own hand, called him - him, of all beings, disregarding fault and deficiency and even betrayal - when he called him family…said he needed him, somehow the human part of Castiel - battered and buried beneath Naomi's conditiong - escaped, broke free with a sudden burst of… well, Castiel isn’t exactly sure what. Leaving Dean, Sam too, and abandoning them without explanation was the last thing Cas wanted to do, but he had no choice. The moment his fingers graced the ancient stone, he could read it. How? he doesn't know, but that doesn't change the fact that what it says must be forever kept from both human eyes and angel eyes, alike.

The things Naomi could do with this sacred knowledge: Castiel wishes he could say they’re unimaginable, but his Father created him with an unlimited imagination, so (despite his wishes against it) he can see every horrifying possibility. And Dean. He should’ve known he’d be the one - the Righteous Man, the Michael vessel, the only one capable of closing the gates of Heaven. Cas doesn’t know if Dean would ever choose to close the golden gates, angels and all, but he can’t afford to risk it. As much as he fears being eternally trapped upstairs, he fears even more for the toll it would take on Dean. Cas has seen Sam, seen the permanent damage caused by a single trial. He isn’t even sure if the younger Winchester will survive this chapter of the story, but he'd never admit it…even to himself.

The edge. Castiel squints, peering over the cliff face into the canyon below, scrutinizing the rocks and crevices for a suitable hideaway. **There**. He turns around and lowers himself over the side, edging his way down into the pit. No, not a pit - more of a chasm, really. The word, pit, only grieves him, reminding him of Michael and Lucifer. His family hadn’t always been ragged and raging. Castiel remembers a time when Lucifer was good. Well, he’s always been a little rebellious, causing mischief with Gabriel and such, but he wasn’t always corrupt. Halfway down the rock face, Castiel struggles to find a hand hold. A sturdy, crooked root emerging from the cliff seems suitable enough, but its distance isn’t comforting. He jumps and wraps his hands around the root, gripping it as tightly as he did Dean when raising him from perdition. But then the root breaks and suddenly, just like dinner on the 6th day, everything falls apart.

Castiel has visited many human dreams - many of falling and many of flying - but very few dreams contained both. Without wings, humans can never understand that innate and voluntary instinct to fly when hurtling towards the ground. And soon Castiel wishes he lacked it as well, because before he can realize it or stop himself, he’s flying. Within an instant, he’s safe on the ground, but within a minute, he’s surrounded. His brothers hold him by the arms, his sisters, by the wings, and forcely shove him to his knees. One tears the duffel from his grasp and removes its prize, before vanishing with the piece of tablet into Heaven. Naomi saunters up with a look of victory. “Castiel. We've been looking for you for quite some time now.”

“I'm sorry...I meant to call,” he retorts in a deep, sarcastic tone. Some of the brothers' sarcasm had managed to rub off on Cas, and he knows this is it. This is the end. Why not end it the Winchester way?

Naomi raises her eyebrow. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but you're all out of minutes now,” she replies with just as much sass.

“So go ahead. Do it. Kill me!” Castiel snaps. His patience for Naomi is growing practically anorexic.

“Kill you? Why, I came to congratulate you, Castiel!” She steps closer, and leans down to eye level. “You passed the test.” Castiel doesn’t humor her. He waits for the inevitable explanation...and it comes. “You see, when Metatron wrote the angel tablet, he designed it so that only angels “worthy enough” could read it…angels who love humanity as much as our Father did.” Naomi stands and begins pacing before her captive. “I’ve been watching you for a long time, Castiel. Of all the angels, you’ve always been the most committed to the humans’ cause.” Cas can’t help but think about everything he’s down for the Winchesters. For the humans. Murdering his own brothers and sisters, rebelling against his father’s plan…giving his life. "You were the ideal candidate. So as part of your verification, I simply provided a test.”

Simply. There is nothing simple about being forced to murder one of your only friends thousands of times for the sake of verification.

“So I passed the test. Do I get a prize?” Cas snarks.

“A chance at redemption.” Naomi states calmly. “For all the deaths and misery you’ve caused in Heaven.” Castiel can’t argue, so he doesn’t. Not yet. “You shall report to Heaven with me and translate the Angel Tablet.”

The word “No” escapes Castiel’s mouth so quickly, he has to repeat himself: “No.”

“Oh, Castiel. If only it were that simple. You see, I happen to know of a certain little human who you’d never risk losing…” She doesn’t even have to say his name and Castiel’s stomach is already dropping. “And if you don’t cooperate, he _will_ die.”

“I- I’ll bring him back.” Cas chokes on the words.

“No…” Naomi sighs “You won’t be able to.” She nods solemnly to her companions and suddenly celestial feathers are being violently ripped from Castiel’s ancient and beautiful wings. Some are torn by the handful, others are plucked one by one, but each causes a searing pain that shoots through Castiel’s shoulders and back, escaping through his lungs in a soul-shattering scream that would render any human permanently deaf. The angels are merciless, rough, and violent, torturing Castiel like an animal. Blood covers their hands, the earth, the trenchcoat. Castiel begs for them to cease, screaming and crying out for mercy, but only when Naomi waves her hand, do they stop, leaving the broken angel and his shredded wings alone in his agony. Many of them are shocked at what looks like - what must be, but couldn’t possibly be - tears… streaming down their little brother’s face. Naomi apologizes coldly, before stepping forward herself. An angel blade drops into her hand, and with two quick blows, she cuts off the frames of Castiel’s wings, sending a shuddering angelic light out of Castiel's back with shrieks of pain. All that’re left are two, bloody stubs.

“You will be allowed one week to recuperate and say your goodbyes. You won’t be able to see Dean or any of your other little human friends after that, but they’ll be safe. And isn’t that your #1 priority, Castiel?” She leans over. “You see… everybody wins.” Castiel doesn't respond. He can't even hear Naomi over the high-pitched ringing in his ears. Huddled and shaking, the broken angel wimpers as drops of bloody saliva kiss the Earth. The pain shakes him to the very core, and Castiel doesn't even notice when the angels leave. He doesn't move, he’s not even sure if he can. The blue eyes gradually come to focus through his blurred, shaky vision and find themselves resting upon a single, blood-stained feather, already hardened in the unmeasurable time that has passed. In his brokenness, Castiel begins to choke out words of desperation… prayers. They come out softly at first, his voice hoarse and indescribably weak from screaming, but with every sentence, the prayers grow in volume and emotional intensity. He trembles, and begs, and begins to confess things he had once sworn to never reveal. In the heat and intensity, Castiel’s prayers peak with a strangled cry of “I NEED YOU!” which echoes through the canyon and bounces back to Castiel as he breaks down and sobs. “…I need you.” he repeats, almost inaudibly. But Dean doesn’t come. 

* * *

Dean’s eyelids begin to droop as another hour passes. The words on the page in front of him begin to sway in and out of focus, as his vision blurs in exhaustion. He curses, slamming the book shut and letting out a reluctant yawn. It’s late. He should be sleeping... but how can he with all that’s happened?

 _Sam, Cas, Benny, Kevin_ … all of them suffering from this tablet fiasco.

And Dean? All he’s suffering from is collateral damage. And that’s what frustrates him the most. Everyone around him is getting hurt, and there’s nothing he can do about it. At least nothing so far. For days, he’s buried himself in the Men of Letters library with the small hope of helping Sammy. Anything to keep him alive, to keep him going. But research has never been Dean’s forté and answers just don't seem to exsist. He stands and walks towards the kitchen with coffee in mind, absent-mindedly scratching his face. All of a sudden, a gentle rap comes from the door. Dean stops. Could it be Garth? Maybe he'd found a lead on Kevin, but wouldn’t he have just called? Dean warily pockets his gun as he approaches the entrance, where a second and more urgent knock is heard. There’s no peep hole, so Dean leans into the door, his hand resting on the knob.

“Who is it?”

“Dean, it’s me…” Dean throws the door open.

“Cas?!” Dean isn’t sure whether to be more shocked at the angel's return or at his condition. Castiel stumbles forward, but Dean catches him, supporting the angel by throwing one of his dirty trenchcoated arms over his shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He tries walking him to the couch, but Cas’ legs give out and he collapses. “Man, what the Hell happened to you?” Dean says as he fully picks up Cas to carry him. Castiel looks like he spent a month in Purgatory then got hit by an 18-wheeler, but his face is what makes Dean's stomach knot. Never before had he seen such _hopelessness_. It was a pain reminiscent of his time spent in Hell. Dean gently sets Cas down on his back, only to hear sharp cries of pain, to which he awkwardly does his best to adjust him into a comfortable position on his stomach. “Hey- hey, listen to me. Cas, are you okay? What happened?!” Dean urgently searches Castiel’s eyes before he finally answers:

“Nao-” his raspy voice chokes and he coughs violently, “Naomi…”

Dean stands, cursing. “I’m gonna **kill** her!” he says with a tone as serious as revenge. But he turns his attention back to the angel “What did she do to you? How can I help??”

Castiel gradually, with the occasional cough or gasp in pain, explains about everything: the tablet pieces, Naomi's test, the wings… and by the end of it, Dean can’t take it. He's so grieved, so overwhelmed, so _angry_ , he can’t help it - and hardly cares - when the tears come. He wants to yell and curse and… well, kill something, but he doesn’t. Instead, Dean calmly gets up and walks to the kitchen, returning with a bag of ice. He sits on the edge of the couch next to Cas and places the cold bag against his shoulder blade as gently as a hunter can. Cas winces at first, but steadily relaxes to numbing cold. Dean says nothing, just holds the ice to Castiel’s back, and quietly hums bits and pieces of “Hey Jude”. As the silent minutes pass, Castiel realizes just how much he needs Dean… this seemingly weak, insignificat little human. And though he has only 4 days left, there is no place he'd rather be, no place he'd rather stay... and this realization only makes him feel worse.

“Dean-” the trembling voice suddenly breaks the silence, as Cas forces his aching body to sit up. “I don’t know what to do…” His eyes meet the floor. “I just- I can’t let Naomi know what’s on that tablet…some of the things I read, Dean…” He covers his face with his hands.

Dean sets the ice down on the table and replaces it with the gentle touch of his hand on Castiel’s back. “Then we’ll keep it from her…keep _you_ from her.”

Cas scoffs. “The only way I can see that happening is if…if _I_ -” he pauses, “Well, do it the Winchester way…”

Dean stares at Cas in confusion, but then it hits him… **hard**.

“Kill yourself? Yeah, because that’ll solve all of our problems…” Dean responds sarcastically, trying to overlook Castiel's sincerity. This isn't the first time Cas has mentioned suicide and after all he's been through, Dean knows he could do it. He just hopes he can convince him otherwise.

“It would solve the most important ones…”

“Cas, **you** are important. To _me_. To _all_ of us. And you know what? You’re gonna live. And I’m gonna live. The only one who should be worried is Naomi… because we’re going to this the _real_ Winchester way.”

Finally, Cas looks up, and Dean can see it. The hope. It’s in his eyes, crowded by fear and doubt and insecurity, but it’s there.

“We’re gonna fight, Cas…" And suddenly more doubt clouds the blue eyes. "Look, you’ve read the angel tablet. There must be something that can help us beat Naomi…”

Castiel thinks for a moment and the hope expands. “Yes…I think there is something… it’s similar to the demon bomb Kevin constructed. But the ingredients…” The hope deflates. “I doubt we could procure them in time… without my wings.” 

“Is there any angel, _any_ one at all that could help us?”

_There's a grim pause before Castiel answers._

“No… I’m afraid they’re all dead..." Then something switches in Castiel. "But maybe we could change that…” He talks faster, the hope finally blazing in his eyes. “The angel tablet. There was something about resurrecting angels! If we could bring back Balthazar, Gabriel… maybe even Samandriel, we could have a chance.”

Dean smiles, because finally, they aren’t helpless…aren’t hopeless. This is one friend he can save. And if this means Castiel will be free and safe and happy, Dean can’t imagine anything better.

“Then let’s get started.”

 


End file.
